


Faces and Names

by Laine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laine/pseuds/Laine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obviously, this is all a dream.</p>
<p>(But how can it be Cersei's dream, when it scarcely seems to matter that she's there at all?)</p>
<p>Written for the <a href="http://mockyrfears.livejournal.com/2421.html">Game of Thrones Kink Meme</a> on LiveJournal.  The prompt was:  Ned/Cersei; her wedding night to Robert, but he's too drunk to perform his "duties".  Ned fills in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faces and Names

_He smells of leather and pine._

Cersei twines her fingers in Ned’s thick dark hair and arches her back- Robert behind her, broad and muscled and warm, a wall holding her in place. A large hand curls over her hip; it must be Robert’s, for both of Ned’s are here in her hair, stroking as gently as if she were a fragile baby kitten and not a fierce lion queen. The thought rankles her a little, and she pulls him in for a kiss, sharp teeth nibbling at his lower lip until he releases a low, throaty moan. 

_Obviously, this is all a dream_. She’d had plenty to drink at the wedding feast- not nearly as much as Robert, but certainly enough to prompt a hazy fugue state between sleep and waking. _Odd, that I’m imagining Ned Stark here instead of Jaime..._ but she shakes her head free of that and focuses on Ned’s mouth, the brush of his beard over her cheeks, the solidness of his chest against hers. 

She slips a hand between them to rub him- he’s larger than she expects, and she feels a slight blush in her cheeks. The Lord of Winterfell gasps and looks her right in the eye- those solemn, somber grey eyes, now aflame with a combination of drink and shame and _want_ \- she feels a prickling at her ear as Robert whispers- “You’re no maiden, are you?” An icy chill sweeps up and down her back, but Robert soon abandons the thought, his lips tracing a line down the side of her neck. 

Robert turns them- still half-heartedly grasping at his cock every now and then, although they all know that it’s no use- until Cersei straddles Ned’s hips. She sees her reflection in his eyes, proud and golden and beautiful and perfect; the sight thrills her, and she is about to bring her hand between her own legs when Ned gets there first. He places a thumb on her clit, and she rocks against it slowly, her breaths coming quicker and shallower- “My Queen,” he whispers, and she nearly comes at that phrase alone. 

Robert slips a thick finger into her- she starts to push down onto iit, but he quickly withdraws. “Gods, Ned, she’s wet,” he murmurs, and in a wicked burst of impulse, Cersei takes Ned’s cock in hand and rubs the head against her slickness. 

“I..I cannot-” Ned starts to protest, but Cersei leans over him until their faces are curtained by her lush golden hair. 

“It’s a command, my lord. You must serve your King...aye, and your Queen, too.” Before he can say anything more, she captures his lips with hers and lowers herself down onto him. It is all she can do to keep from crying out into his mouth- he’s larger than Jaime, and she feels nearly as tight as a maiden again. But she quickly finds a rhythm, rolling her hips over him, one hand in her hair and one splayed on his chest. 

She has allowed her eyes to flutter shut, and when she opens them again, Cersei finds Robert lying beside Ned, their faces close on the pillow, the King’s hand stroking over Ned’s sweat-dampened hair. “Look at me,” Robert breathes, again and again and again, and the two men lock gazes, blue on grey- there’s an impossible sadness on both of their faces that she cannot discern, something to which she does not belong- Cersei feels suddenly incensed. _I may as well not be here at all_. 

But rather than withdraw, the Lioness of Lannister just bears down harder on Ned’s cock, her hips moving faster until he _can’t_ ignore her, until he can’t do anything but grip her thighs and rock up into her- Robert reaches up to pinch her nipple, and she whimpers- and then the burst of heat inside her as Ned releases his seed. 

She rises from the bed to wipe the liquids from her inner thighs. When she returns, she finds her husband and their vassal still sharing a pillow- she watches as Robert places a kiss on Ned’s brow and whispers a word that sounds quite like a name.


End file.
